"Faizah…"

Faizah wiped the dirt from her pruners as she continued her clean-up. "I like him. I think he is good for Nyota."

"Good for Nyota?" Mbaruku could not believe it.

She still had a distant look in her eyes as if recalling something pleasant. "We talked."

"And…that's it? You talked? About what?" Now he truly wondered about Vulcan telepathy. Faizah was not usually easily swayed.

"Oh, simple things, gardening…. He knows a great deal about roses."

Mbaruku sniffed in disgust. "Apparently he knows a great deal about smooth-talk, too."

"What?"

"It's bad enough that he's somehow gotten to Nyota, but now you?"

Faizah threw a Level 1 Glare of Death at her husband. "First, no one 'smooth-talks' me. You should know; you tried often enough."

Mbaruku gave a guilty start. As a younger man, trying to sweet-talk Faizah into dating him had been a futile, frustrating exercise. She refused until he stopped trying to impress her and instead simply switched to engaging her in pleasant conversation.

Faizah seemed satisfied that her jab hit its mark, then her eyes saddened. "Second, it's not about the gardening. Nyota said that he and Lady Amanda were close. He does not say it outright, but I believe it. She taught him about roses and gardening—did you know that they had a rose garden on Vulcan? He helped her with the pruning the same way he just helped me. And now…. Well, I don't know how he endures it."

Mbaruku felt great sympathy for Commander Spock's losses, however this situation also concerned Nyota's well-being. He had to maintain his focus and not be swayed by the emotion of the moment.

"Mbaru, listen to me. We need to take this more slowly and remember what has happened to him. He is wounded. It is going to take listening to what he cannot say as much as listening to what he does." Faizah started to pack away a couple more gardening tools, then she stopped and her lips turned up in a smile. "He's one of those 'quiet and complex' types. But even with the Vulcan formality, I think you'll find that he has a nice sense of humor. I didn't expect that. I had no problem seeing what Nyota saw in him professionally. I am beginning to understand what she sees personally."

He was moved somewhat by Faizah's observations, yet still was concerned that she was ascribing human qualities to the Vulcan, attempting to reconcile their daughter's relationship in her mind. "A Vulcan with a sense of humor? Really?"

She nodded in confirmation. "I do like him. He's a nice boy."

Though it looked like the Vulcan had just passed The Faizah Test, the father-warrior remained doubtful. "Nice boy? He's a Starfleet commander. He's hardly a boy."

But the Mama Lioness had found another cub to protect, and Faizah leveled her death glare again. "In most respects, no. But, Mbaru, right now he is. Inside that Vulcan man's body is a boy who has just lost his mother and everything in his world. Didn't you see that I wanted to sit him down the second he walked through our door last night? I did! But you saw him. He tries to contain it, but look in his eyes. Nyota warned us. Vulcan feelings run deep. They are all in a serious state of shock right now. We need to be careful. I understand now why she brought him here, and she is trusting us."

Mbaruku was not giving up. "This boy is involved with our daughter."

"He is fortunate, then, that our daughter has parents who will treat him respectfully." Apparently, Faizah, eyeing him critically, was not giving up, either.

"Are you no longer concerned about their relationship?"

"Of course, as I would be with anyone Nyota brought home. I still have concerns. And he is Vulcan. I'm not sure how that will work."

"But you like him…," Mbaruku prompted, interested in her reasons. Maybe they would settle his own fears. "How can you say that when you hardly know him?"

She relaxed slightly as she thought aloud. "I don't know. I thought that he would be cold and distant—you know, the typical Vulcan stereotypes—but he's not. He's quiet, and, honestly, I don't know how he stands up to Nyota," she joked to Mbaruku's consternation, "though I can see a strength of personality in there. And, as I am thinking about our conversation, he has me wondering: Are we really so different?… Do you remember when I had to ban Nyota from the garden…"

Mbaruku nodded, recalling Faizah's seething after a teenaged Nyota, despite Faizah's careful demonstration and instruction, pruned back the rose bushes too far. Fortunately the resilient rose bushes grew back, saving Faizah from mourning their premature demise and Nyota's banishment from the garden altogether.

Faizah continued. "Well, he said that his mother had to ban his father from her roses. He was a little enthusiastic with the pruning shears, just like Nyota, and she had to hide her gardening tools from him, too!"

Mbaruku's eyebrows rose as he tried to picture the esteemed and serene Ambassador Sarek turning a garden into tossed salad.

Faizah confirmed the picture in his head with a small smirk. "And then his father had to keep his mother from overwatering a Vulcan fruit tree before it drowned. They could have been our family, like the time I came back from that conference on Rigel…"

Mbaruku chuckled. He and their daughters had nearly drowned everything in the vegetable garden, worrying that they were not watering it enough during Faizah's two-week absence.

Faizah smiled at the memory. "We have things in common. As I think more about it, Ambassador Sarek and Lady Amanda, even with all their differences, were able to make their marriage work. If it ever got to that point, maybe Nyota and Spock could, too. And Spock was raised by a human mother. He may understand Nyota better than we think."

Mbaruku had to make one more point in exercising due diligence. "Perhaps, but I would like to know what he understands about breaking the Starfleet Academy Fraternization Code. We haven't addressed that little issue."

She sighed. "I am wondering about that one, too. But it's too early to fire questions at him—yes, I saw your list, Mbaru. You left your terminal on last week. How many? Eighty-eight was it?"

Mbaruku looked skyward as he corrected her. "Ninety-three. I added a few."

Faizah looked impressed, exaggerating her reaction to tease him. "Ninety-three…. One thing I always liked about you is your thoroughness. It's one of your charms."

"And would you respect me if I were not?" he returned, enjoying her reaction.

The pair shared a laugh.

"Don't bring up the fraternization code with Spock," Faizah resumed gently. "Talk to Nyota first. See what she says."

"I'd rather talk to him instead of her." Mbaruku innocently looked skyward again. "You know your daughter…"

Faizah did not miss his jab. "Our daughter. She gets her stubborn streak from you."

"Your own mother would debate that," he teased back, taking advantage of this lighter moment to break some tension. "And she has on several occasions."

"My mother? Hmph!" Faizah rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, looking very much like her own daughter. "My mother is the model of 'stubborn.' If Nyota inherited stubbornness from my side of the family, it's only because the genes for 'stubborn' skipped my generation!"

Mbaruku remained ostentatiously quiet, keeping his mouth carefully closed.

Faizah aimed The Glare of Death at him again. "You want to say something, Dr. Uhura?"

"Yes," he said, "but it's wise to know when to keep one's own counsel and simply observe."

"Then take your own advice," she teased back. "If you can't keep yourself from interrogating Spock as Nyota's father, then be the historian here—treat him as the historical figure he is. Observe."

Faizah had a point. The academic distancing might help keep him from strangling the commander in a fit of paternal protectiveness if he found out that…. Again, Mbaruku shut off those thoughts. Why did his mind keep going there? Was it really his business? No, it was not despite his feelings otherwise. "We will have to talk about this eventually," he asserted.

Faizah seemed to read his mind. "Maybe, but be nice,"she emphasized. "Breakfast will be ready soon. I sent Spock up to wake Nyota before she slept the day away."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You sent Commander Spock with a rose to wake Nyota," he accused.

Faizah chuckled with a mischievious glint in her eyes. "Hmmm, so I did. I like him. He's a nice boy."

Mbaruku threw Faizah a wry look, shook his head, and breathed out, giving up for now.

-o0o-

Mbaruku and Faizah finished setting the table, and Mbaruku was about to fill a pitcher with juice. Nyota, wearing a comfortable coral short-sleeved shirt and a traditional sapphire blue kitenge, entered the room. Her hair was up, accented with the rose that Faizah had sent. Smiling widely, she looked happy and rested. Spock entered right behind her.

Spock stood back while Nyota enthusiastically went to Faizah first and embraced her. "Thank you, Mama." Her tone carried layers of meaning. "Thank you."

"Ah, your rose," Faizah observed warmly. "Very nice. It belongs there."

Mother and daughter exchanged layers of understanding. With her mother's message confirmed, Nyota's smile widened, then she glanced at Mbaruku.

Mbaruku, still uncomfortable, smiled back at her anyway. "Good morning… You did not sleep the entire day away, I see."

She came over and hugged him. "I needed the sleep. It is good to be home."

Yes, Mbaruku agreed, it was.

Faizah redirected her attention to their guest. "Spock, please have a seat. Nyota said that you drink chai. Would you care for some?"

Spock pulled out a chair and sat. "Yes, Ma'am."

Faizah froze, suspending the teapot in midair, looking at him with eyebrows raised. "Ma'am?" she asked playfully in mock affront and incredulity.

The Vulcan tilted his head as he assessed her reaction. "Yes,…Faizah," he corrected somewhat shyly.

"Much better!" Faizah proclaimed happily, proceeding to pour the warm liquid into his mug.

"Indeed?" Spock replied dryly, sitting back, eyes slightly widened.

Mbaruku was unsure of what the Vulcan meant with his comment, but Nyota and Faizah laughed as Nyota let go of Mbaruku to slide into the chair next to Spock. Faizah filled the other mugs, then lifted the big urn of uji, the traditional East African millet porridge, and set it next to the plates of fruit and condiments already on the table.

Mbaruku pulled out the chair directly opposite of Spock and sat. Should he invite the same familiarity that Faizah had? No, he was not ready for that. "I trust you slept well, Commander…," Mbaruku prompted, sticking to formality.

Faizah looked at him quizzically. Nyota looked a bit hurt. Well, Mbaruku thought to himself, she would have to understand.

Spock mirrored Mbaruku's reserve. "Yes, Sir."

Tension filled the air as the two men regarded each other. Mbaruku tried to break it. "Are you familiar with uji?" He indicated the urn.

"Yes, Sir."

"You've had it before?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mbaruku waited a few seconds. Spock sat ramrod straight and did not elucidate.

He tried again. "Is this something that Nyota has made for you before?"

"No, Sir."

Well, this was going nowhere.

Nyota came to the rescue. "They serve it at the Academy cafeteria sometimes. They rotate through different cuisines and encourage everyone to try new foods, to get used to them. You never know what kind of food there will be on your ship, station, or starbase."

"No fussy eater survives long in Starfleet," Faizah observed, making conversation. "Please, everyone, let's eat. Spock, if you'll pass your bowl, I'll serve."

"No, Mama, let me," Nyota broke in.

Faizah sat back in surprise. Nyota's eyes met her mother's, asking this indulgence.

The klaxons in Mbaruku's head sounded. Why was this so important to Nyota? Notably Commander Spock had tilted his head and looked like he was wondering the same thing.

Faizah lifted her hands in the air, gesturing acquiescence. "Certainly…here, let me move the uji closer to you. Would anyone care for fruit?"

Nyota looked slightly embarrassed as she spooned the porridge into Spock's bowl.

"Pass the fruit to me," Mbaruku said. He had been reading about Vulcan customs, and, within their context, something about Nyota's actions disquieted him. Going down a mental list of recently gleaned facts, he remembered what it was: Only Vulcan wives served Vulcan husbands their meals. Did that custom extend to girlfriends, too? Or, he wondered uneasily, had Nyota become more than a girlfriend? He had to put his concern to a test.

"Commander, may I offer you some mango or pineapple, perhaps?"

The Vulcan still looked confused. "Yes, mango. Thank you."

Four words. All in a row. At least Mbaruku was making some progress on that front. As for testing his theory, Nyota had not jumped in to stop him from serving the commander. Now what did that mean? Did it mean anything? He had to know. Faizah probably was not going to be happy with his next move, but he had to ask.

"Nyota?" he said to get her attention.

"Oh, mango and pineapple, please," she answered cheerfully.

This was not what he wanted her attention for, but he put some of the fruit on her plate anyway.

"There," he said, finishing with her and helping himself to a few pieces of the fruit. "But I was wondering…"

Faizah looked up at him sharply. Mbaruku guessed that she knew he was going to ask a question and that she might not like it.

"…why did you stop your mother from serving the commander the uji?"

Nyota had finished topping the Vulcan's portion with nuts and berries, set it before him, then started adding condiments to her own serving. "Hmmm? Oh, Mama always puts cinnamon in mine."

"Nyota, I have not put cinnamon in your uji since you were a child," Faizah protested.

Nyota looked back at Faizah in disbelief, eyebrows high on her forehead.

"Oh, all right, maybe it was more recently than that," Faizah laughed, referencing how she fussed over her daughter during Nyota's last visit home. "Old habits are hard to break. You always liked it, though. What is suddenly wrong with cinnamon?"

"In large amounts, it doesn't always agree with Vulcan physiology. It can be an intoxicant."

Faizah's hand flew to her mouth in surprise, and she gasped. "I didn't know that! So much for my research!" Faizah then looked a little concerned. "Spock, I promise you, it was not my intention to poison you—or get you drunk."

The eyes widened as the eyebrows went up. "That is…appreciated…Faizah," he said patiently.

Nyota and Faizah broke out laughing again. The Vulcan definitely was teasing Faizah. Maybe he was not as wounded as Faizah thought. Mbaruku kept his mouth shut and observed.

"You could have simply said something," Faizah admonished her daughter. "And couldn't Spock have handled his own condiments? He seems capable enough to me."

Nyota threw up her own hands nervously. "Spock, I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me. I'm excited to be home, and I guess I just had to work off the energy."

"Your choices were consistent with what mine would have been," he replied gently, almost warmly, as his eyes met Nyota's. "Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim."

Nyota giggled, returning his gaze with one of her own that, Mbaruku noted, truly indicated more than a close friendship. Love? That was exactly what it looked like! Suspecting this truth when Faizah mentioned it was one thing. Seeing it for himself was another. His daughter was in love, and the way the Vulcan had spoken to her reflected a degree of familiarity, almost an intimacy that made Mbaruku uncomfortable.

"And what does that mean?" Faizah laughed, interrupting the sting of Mbaruku's realization.

"There is no offense where none is taken," Nyota translated.

"Hmm, that's a nice sentiment. I'll have to remember that phrase." Faizah was clearly enjoying this. "Nam-t-reh… Would you say that again?"

"Nam-to-ri…." Commander Spock slowly reviewed the phrase with Faizah, repeating it several times until she managed "acceptable" pronunciation. She seemed happy at her accomplishment. Nyota, Faizah, and the commander seemed to enjoy their lighthearted give-and-take. Mbaruku, still silently shocked, simply continued to observe their interactions.

"Baba, you're quiet." Nyota narrowed her eyes, then her brow wrinkled slightly in concentration. "Why did you want to know about the uji?"

Again, his daughter knew him well. Now Faizah was looking at him expectantly for an answer.

"It was nothing," Mbaruku evaded.

"It was something," Faizah prompted.

"It is…embarrassing," he admitted. "A misunderstanding more than anything. Let's drop it. I do not want to offend." Actually, he didn't want to say anything until he had time to think over what he had just witnessed between Nyota and the commander.

"Nam-tor ri thrap…wilat nem-tor…rim," said Faizah.

"Mama!" squealed Nyota, pride emanating from her face at her mother's effort.

The older woman beamed. "Did I say that correctly?"

"You did," Spock confirmed, then addressed himself to Mbaruku. "Dr. Uhura, do you have an inquiry?"

With the commander's seven words—all in a row—now all eyes were on him. Mbaruku had to come clean. "I may have misunderstood a point of Vulcan culture that I read about. But my misunderstanding is cleared up now."

"What was it?" Nyota asked. "I promise, no one will get mad."

Famous last words, Nyota, he thought. But Nyota and Commander Spock had, themselves, invited his question. Faizah would not be able to chastise him for it now. It was time to break the ice and awkwardness of beginning necessary conversations.

"I read that in Vulcan culture, only a man's wife is allowed to serve him food. So when Nyota insisted on serving the commander's uji, I wondered if—"

"—If we were married? You thought that we…Omigod! Baba!" Nyota started laughing hysterically.

"Mbaru!" Faizah looked at him incredulously and shook her head.

Mbaruku's discomfort was augmented by the warm flush to his face. "Well, my daughter…I told you that it was embarrassing, but you wanted to know!"

"It's OK, Baba," Nyota said after catching her breath. "Really."

"Form dictates that one follow local custom provided that it does not violate one's mores," Spock stated calmly. "Are we not following local custom?"

"We are," Nyota confirmed. "Besides, if we were following Vulcan custom, we wouldn't be talking during the meal."

"That might not have been such a bad idea," Mbaruku stated, still embarrassed, yet working to regain control of the conversation. "But it wouldn't have cleared up the misunderstanding."

"Agreed," Spock said, then narrowed his own gaze at Mbaruku. "Are there additional misunderstandings to 'clear up' at this time?"

Nyota looked at Spock, surprised. Clearly she had not expected this. Nor had Mbaruku. Faizah looked shocked as well.

Commander Spock was going on the offensive. Maybe he was as eager to clear the air as much as Mbaruku was. For what reasons, Mbaruku could only guess. Though his tone was respectful, this Starfleet officer's posture was firm and battle-ready. Commander Spock projected every bit of the "commander" in his rank. The Vulcan's intense eyes met Mbaruku's, inviting Mbaruku's next move…

April 6, 2011: I know that you're all saying "Finally! She updated!" I apologize for the wait. Real Life has been throwing one challenge after another. It's been nothing dire or life-threatening, but enough to sap any shred of creativity by day's end. Please send your good thoughts and positive vibes my way for my husband's continued employment. I appreciate it. And, while you're at it, keep the people of Japan in your thoughts and prayers as they begin the difficult task of rebuilding their country and their lives.

Again, I must thank T'Soy most enthusiastically for her intelligent observations, advice, and ongoing encouragement. T'Soy, mahalo nui loa!